


She’d Run, He’d Chase—The Prague Job

by crayonbreakygal



Series: The Sophie Chronicles [1]
Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:28:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6559333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayonbreakygal/pseuds/crayonbreakygal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sophie encounters an intriguing man while stealing a Degas.  Nate encounters a beautiful woman as he attempts to stop a theft.  Takes place pre-series, approximately ten years before the meeting in Chicago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She’d Run, He’d Chase—The Prague Job

**Author's Note:**

> I love playing with different points of view of the same scene or scenario. This one is first in Sophie's POV, then Nate's POV. Hope I caught all the pronouns. This is so much better than the last prequel fic I wrote. Enjoy!

 

Takes place pre-series, approximately ten years before the meeting in Chicago.

She’d Run, He’d Chase—The Prague Job

Sophie had found a place to catch her breath.  The café overlooked a beautiful park in riotous bloom of springtime.  The smells of coffee and sweets mixed in with the flowers were intoxicating.  She’d spent the day exploring several castles, out of the way museums, and attempted to find the perfect shoe for her night out.

The National Gallery intrigued her, but there was nothing that piqued her interest to steal. It would be quite easy to slip in, blend in with the crowd or the staff and take what she wanted.  Only that was not why she was in Prague.  It was a private collection, one painting in particular that she was after.  That Degas sang to her.  It would be hers shortly.

She’d set herself up in Prague, had infiltrated the household of the owner, conning him into letting her actually see the painting amongst his other, most prized possessions.  They always bragged about what they owned.  That made it even easier when she slipped in and took it. 

The man she was conning was not her type at all.  It took all her courage to let him even touch her, but she endured his pawing hands.  Sophie never let it get further than that.  That was for after hours, with nondescript men who wouldn’t ask questions or even ask her name.  She liked to party, but with a different sort of man than the one she was conning.

Only the partying had gotten a bit tedious and it bored her immensely. She needed something, or someone else in which to play.  Maybe she’d travel down to the French Riviera, see if she could contact one of her boys and party until she dropped.

Her skin warmed to the spring sun, making her skin tingle with delight.  Tonight was the night, when the mark was hosting a wonderful gala.  Her invitation burned in her hand as he had gleefully given it over to her, wanting to show her off to his friends.  She’d be his arm candy tonight.  Not that it mattered.  She’d be gone soon enough.

Sophie had hidden her other clothes in a side panel that opened to her touch.  These old castles had all sorts of hiding places for bags, valuables and occasionally bodies.  Luckily the one she had found didn’t contain a body that had been there for centuries.  Slipping away from the party would be easy.  All she had to do was excuse herself, hide, change clothes and steal the painting after all the guests had left.

Arriving back at her hotel, she bathed and put on her mask, i.e., her makeup.  She’d not do herself up heavily tonight.  Tonight was all about work, not play.  She’d look the part, but didn’t want to overdo it.  She chose between two red dresses, one with a plunging neckline and one that had a plunging back.  Sophie chose the back since the mark had already seen her cleavage.  Why give him another glance at something he might remember or possibly want that night.  She needed to distract him, not entice him.

Her makeup was understated, except for her lips.  They were blood red.  It matched the outfit.  No less would have her standing out.  Have someone concentrate on her lips or her figure and not who she really was.  She swept her hair up into a loose chignon, with tendrils wispy and wavy.  With no new shoes in sight, she settled for the lower heel, just in case she had to make a quicker getaway at the party than she anticipated.  Simple earrings rounded out her ensemble.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she realized that she was ready for battle.  He’d never know what hit him.  The Degas would be hers.  A buyer had already been found.  This would be a big payday.  France beckoned her.

As she arrived at the party, she glanced around, hoping to find the mark to make herself known.  She’d weave her way around the place, make sure that the security was still what she thought, and then make herself scarce.  It all would work without a hitch if the security stayed the same.

“Hello, Catherine.  You look lovely tonight.”

His oily hands skimmed against her back.  Smiling, she bit back a retort, hoping that he didn’t ruin her dress.  She was never as glad as this time to be done with the mark.  He was a pompous ass with way too much time on his hands and way too handsy for her taste.

She’d grin and bear it for a bit more, until he was distracted by the next woman, hopefully one that would keep his interest and keep him occupied.  Later that night, as she excused herself from his group, she circled around to find a quiet place to stay until the time to find her hidey hole.

A drink was in order as was a few h’ordeuvres so she’d be fortified so her stomach would not growl.  As her hand came up to take her drink from the bartender, another hand came into her view.  That was her drink, she grumbled.

Looking up and to her side, the hand that was attempting to steal her drink was attached to a man with the bluest eyes she had ever seen.  He was a bit taller than she was, but not overly so.  His suit was crisp, shirt even crisper, cuff links of good quality, but not overdone.  His tie was not pushed all the way up, like the man hated the thing, but only wore it because he had to.  His curly hair was a bit out of control because of the spring shower that had come down not ten minutes before.  His hair still looked a bit damp, with beads of water on the shoulders of his suit jacket.  His eyes crinkled at the corners as he looked to see his hand on hers, trying to take her drink from her.

“Oh, pardon me.”

Oh, he’s American.  She smiled his way, taking the drink for herself.  Waiting for something she wanted was not in her blood.  As she slipped her hand out of his with the drink, she felt a jolt of electricity travel from his hand to hers.  Looking deep into his blue eyes, she realized that he felt the same thing.  His eyes widened in surprise.

“Um, sorry.”

“Yes,” was the only answer she wanted to give.

As she glided past him, sipping her drink, she turned her head to get a last glimpse of him.  He watched her as she swayed her hips just a bit more than necessary.  He blew out the breath he was holding, shaking his head as the bartender handed him a drink, probably brandy.  He drained the drink in one go.

Setting herself up next to a window with a large set of curtains, she timed the security.  They were right on schedule.  She’d wait a few more minutes before disappearing.  No one would notice her departure.  Glancing over at the mark, she noticed that the American who had attempted to take her drink was talking to him, pointing this way and that, particularly at the paintings that were on display.  The one she wanted wasn’t out for the public to see.  He kept that one in his office.  She didn’t want to be that obvious.

The American was arguing with her mark, like he was someone important.  Her mark was not pleased, she could tell.  Sophie just hoped that whatever was going on didn’t ruin her plans.  She’d worked hard the last few months to steal that blasted painting.  It was hers.

As the music started, that was her cue to slip away.  The mark was distracted, people started dancing.  Her shoes would make noise, so she took them off to carry.  It didn’t take long for her to find her space to hide.  It was dark inside, but a little light came through where the seams came together, just slightly off in alignment.  Changing out of her gown, she put it inside the portfolio where she would carry the Degas.  It was small enough to carry and not be a burden.  Sophie never stole anything that was too large. Sometimes she’d have to transport her prize over long distances.  It was better to be discreet to sell the item, whether it was jewelry, a painting or sculpture.  Easier to hide, easier to get past any kind of security.  And easier to run when needed.

Sitting down on the floor, she checked her watch to make sure of the time.  She had another hour before the first guests would make their way home.  Leaning her head back against the cold wall, she decided it was better if she were rested.  As she closed her eyes, she thought of the man who had almost taken her drink.  She was intrigued to say the least.  Any other time she probably would have ignored the man.  He wasn’t the flamboyant men she encountered on her travels throughout Europe or the dangerous men she encountered in Russia or Asia. 

The intelligence in his eyes that she encountered in just one look should have worried her.  Did he work for her mark? She hadn’t encountered him in the months leading up to tonight.  Was he a new player?  He did not look like a thief.  Possibly a lawyer from the States?  He was nondescript in every way (minus the hair), except for those eyes.  Well, and the fact that his smirk as he looked at her ass had ticked her off a little.  She was used to men looking her way.  That’s how she made her living.  The sarcasm would be dripping though if she were to chat with him. 

The widening of the eyes though, that was real.  He was intrigued as she was.  Too bad she didn’t have time to dally.  He’d be fun to play with.

He also smelled delicious too, with that aftershave she always enjoyed.  Nothing too pungent, like he had too much money and wanted to show it.  That meant he had to be some kind of employee, whether permanent or temporary.  Most of the men in that room were moneyed in some form or another.  He definitely was not.  The confidence though, that was there in spades.  It was almost bordering on arrogance.  It was fun to study him now that she had the time.  Listening back through her memory, she detected a slight accent, but she couldn’t place it at the moment.  She was a quick study when it came to accents because there were many times where her life depended on it.  She wished she had gotten him to say more than three words, then she could place it.

Looking down at her watch, she had twenty more minutes before she’d make her way to her next stop.  Next to the office that contained the Degas was a small closet. She’d hide there until the house was quiet, then make her way to take what she wanted.  The code to the alarm system in the office had been memorized ages ago.  The mark was not careful at all when disarming the thing in front of her many times.  She’d portrayed the not so smart Duchess perfectly.  She was just eye candy, so why not?

When time was up, she shouldered her bag, peaking out into the darkened corridor.  The coast was clear.  Slipping into the closet, now she had another hour or more until she could claim her prize.  Outside though, there was movement.  Two sets of feet came down the corridor.  She prayed that neither would open the door to the closet.  She’d be prepared, but it was never a good option to get caught before the thievery began.

“If you do not secure your paintings, Mr. Corbett, IYS will have to cancel your policy.”

“Mr. Ford, I understand your concern.  The house is secure.  No one can get in or out without a code.”

Sophie thought to herself about why her mark would be having a conversation about security?  He hadn’t upgraded it in years.

“Each room needs sensors on each painting.  Motions need to be placed in every corridor.  Don’t get me started on all the windows where the latches don’t even work.”

Bullshit.  That would make her job so much more difficult.  Who did this man think he was?

“Which costs an exorbitant amount of money, Mr. Ford.”

“Sell one of these things to pay for it.”

Not before she got her hands on that Degas.

“As I discussed with Mr. Blackpoole on the phone, my security will take time to upgrade.  I am willing to give you the run of the place to make sure that happens.”

Tomorrow, she willed.  It was late.  There was no way Mr. Ford could fix that tonight. She’d be gone before either one of them realized that the Degas was missing.

“Tomorrow, we will start the upgrade.  Until then, I suggest you double the guards.”

Fuck, she thought.  She hoped that her mark balked at that.  She counted guards.  Changing the schedule might mess her up.

“I will see if that’s possible, but I’m not certain that I can until tomorrow at least.  There’s only so much I can do with the personnel on site.”

“Ok, just tomorrow beef it up.”

Sophie sighed in relief.  Thank goodness she’d planned for the heist tonight instead of the next week when her mark had another soiree.  As she waited, she twisted her hands back and forth, hoping that Mr. Ford, whoever he was, left the castle so she didn’t encounter him.  He sounded to be a bloody bastard for her kind.

Then it dawned on her.  The conversation at the party, the looks as he scanned the room.  Bugger.  Mr. Ford, with that distinctive American accent, was the man who had almost taken her drink.  That’s why those blue eyes were so intriguing.  She knew exactly who he was.  Why couldn’t have been that British prick Sterling? She’d beaten him before.  Mr. Ford was to be avoided at all costs.  He caught most of the thieves who he encountered.  He had that kind of reputation.

Instead of waiting another hour, she waited two, just in case.  By then, at 3am, no one would be out and about.  Never take any chances.  Creeping out of her hiding place, she pulled her cap low, pulling the bag tight.  Entering the office, she turned off the alarm quietly.  As quickly as she could, she placed the Degas in the bag, wrapping her red dress around it to protect it a bit.  She rearmed it as she left, leaving it just the way she found the room, minus the painting.  The Degas that she acquired was a beautiful painting of a ballerina, the thing that Degas was famous for.  The girl danced while no one was looking.  Her expression was pure joy as she danced to a song that only she heard.  It was one of Sophie’s favorites.

The door out of the office into the garden was usually locked, but she had taken care of that the day before.  Since she knew the alarm code, it was her way out.  No one would know she took that route.  Her gloves would leave no trace of fingerprints.  She had even taken care when she unlocked it the first time she touched it.

Creeping through the back yard, which was enormous, she found her path quickly, having memorized it weeks before.  The shrubs on the right would shield her from prying eyes.  And the black that she wore to sink into the inky black night.  There was no moon, which was why she scheduled the theft when she did.  No one would see her leave.

She slipped out an opened back gate, one that was not used all that often.  Another thing she left open a few days prior.  Her plan was working without a hitch.  Only she had jinxed herself thinking that.  She was being followed.

She ducked into an alley to catch her breath and to see if her hunch was correct.  Indeed a few moments later, she saw a figure quickly walking down the cobblestone street, looking here and there.  He wasn’t a tourist, that she was sure.  She knew these streets like the back of her hand.  Making her way down the alley, she knew exactly what he wanted.  The painting was hers, damn him.  She had contingency plans all over the place just in case.  He’d never find her hole where she’d hide the Degas.  As quickly as she could, she placed it there.  He’d not find it.  Taking the dress out, she replaced her black clothes with the red.  Distraction was the key now. 

Slipping her heels on, she at last pulled her shawl over her hair, knowing that it would distract him even further.  He’d have to work to recognize her, helping her draw him further from her prize.  It wasn’t until she was blocks from the hiding place that she encountered him. That was on purpose.  If he noticed her, then she’d go to work.  If he did not, then the less work for her.

“Hey, stop.”

So much for not being noticed.

“Excuse me?”

She didn’t try to hide her accent, but played it down until he’d be wondering where she was from.

“From the party. You didn’t happen to see someone dressed in black go by?”

Shaking her head no, she started to walk the opposite way as he was heading.  As she looked back, his eyes were again watching her with intensity.  She’d hooked him.  He’d only remember some exotic woman with a red dress, not a thief and grifter who had scored a Degas.  He’d never associate the two as being the same person.  She’d probably gave him lots of images for some naughty dreams if and when he was able to sleep.

“How’d you do it?”

Sophie stumbled only a bit, but kept moving.  It wouldn’t help her if she turned again.  If she acted like she didn’t know English, maybe he’d think he had the wrong person.

“You really are a piece of work, you know that?”

Her heels clicked against the cobblestones.  They were a bit slick from the rain from before, but she could take them off in a moment’s notice and run.  She’d done it before.  And they’d make good weapons, with the spiked heel at the back.

She knew the exact moment she could get away from him.  The path would take her out of her way, yes, but he’d never know how to use it.  Finally, she had to look back to where he now stood.  His hands were in his pockets, tie askew, hair damp and now curling on his head.  Oh how, in a different lifetime, she’d love to run her fingers through that hair, tug on it to get him to do exactly what she wanted, when she wanted.  His eyes were shaded from her, but she knew that they’d be hard now, since he realized that he had been bested.

“I will find you.”

She smiled his way.

“You have to catch me first.”

And with that, she disappeared.  Or what looked like she was disappearing into thin air.  She heard footsteps come quickly, but by then she would be gone.  The shoes were in her hands so as to not make any noise.  The alleys in the Old Town were windy and hard to follow if you didn’t know them.  Ditching the red dress once again, she pulled on the dark clothes from her bag minus the cap.  Rubbing the red lipstick off, she made her way silently down streets, avoiding anyone who may have been out and about.  She’d retrieve the painting later, when the area wasn’t being watched by some insurance investigator with intelligent blue eyes.

A few days later, she did manage to retrieve it, hand it off to the right person to collect her payday.  It was only as she made her way through the streets, to pick up her suitcase from her hotel room on her way to France that she noticed him.  He wasn’t there when she made the exchange, that she was sure.  She wasn’t sure when she’d picked up the tail, but it hadn’t been long.  In her nondescript flowery skirt and sleeveless blouse, she went on her way like she hadn’t a care in the world. He was in another dark suit, this time with a blue tie that matched his eyes perfectly.  Oh how he intrigued her. 

The castle she made her way to was big with many corridors.  She’d lose him in there.  And she did quickly, making it to her hotel room in record time.  As she packed efficiently, she noticed something on the floor by the door.  Opening the single sheet of paper, all it said was “Next time”.

How had he known where she was staying?  Oh he was good.  Too good.  She’d avoid him like the plague now.  He’d managed to rattle her ever so slightly.  It also made her tingle down her spine, like she had encountered a new species of male.  He’d chase her, she’d run.  And he’d only catch her when she wanted to be caught.  She’d make sure of that.

 

Nathan Ford did not want to be in Prague.  This was Jim Sterling’s case file.  He always got the oily ones, Nate thought.  Good too since Sterling could sometimes be that way also.  Sterling breaking his arm had turned Nate’s luck sour.  He hadn’t wanted to come, but Ian insisted.  Corbett owned too many pieces that were worth millions.  His security was ancient.  It was a matter of time before someone would steal something.  IYS did not want to pay out on that bet.

Nate are tired, more than tired.  He’d been up for almost twenty four hours straight before landing in Prague.  After a short nap, he decided to make his way over to Corbett’s castle.  Who lived in a castle?  He bet it would be damp and dreary. 

His head pounded as he pulled his shoes on.  He just hoped that when he arrived, Corbett would actually listen to him.  The local office had no luck whatsoever attempting to convince the client that he was in for a major overhaul.  Nate wanted to go home and crawl into his own bed, beside his own wife, belly bigger now than it had ever been.

Maggie was pregnant.  She wasn’t thrilled about it, wanting to wait a bit longer before adding to their family.  She had her work, but knew it was important to Nate to start a family.  He thought she glowed, she thought she looked horrid.  His son often kicked as he talked to her belly.  He’d be kicking for the Patriots in no time.

Prague was not where he wanted to be.  He’d rather be home.  He and Maggie had stuff to work on before the baby came.  The nursery, baby proofing the house, their marriage.  He had hoped that a child would help fix what was going on with the two of them.  At first, it was the both of them against the world.  They worked together.  It was fun as they both investigated art fraud, caught bad guys as they tried to fool unsuspecting people for lots of money.  He loved working with her.  Then she was pulled away, working for rich guys like Ian Blackpoole or museums that needed her expertise.  They worked together no longer.  Then he started traveling more and more because there weren’t many investigators that Ian trusted.  Their small group of investigators were close, friends when there was time off, which didn’t come often.

Maggie had complained mightily when she found out he’d travel more outside the States.  There had been many arguments about it, but she did like the fact that she didn't have to work as hard.  He begged her that it was time to start a family.  She didn’t want to stop working though.  They’d just bought a house when she found out she was pregnant.  It had taken a while, what with his traveling schedule and the fact that she didn’t really want to be pregnant.  He sighed when he thought of her indifference to it all.  She’d love the baby once she had him, that he was sure.  She’d make a good mother.

Making his way over to the bar, he wondered when the party would be over.  The party had been scheduled for months, the perfect time for something to disappear.  Nate was on alert, hoping that nothing disappeared before the new, state of the art alarm system was installed.  It was mere days away. 

He’d occupy himself by scanning the crowd, looking for anything shifty.  Thieves were often disguised as guests, but he could spot one a mile away.  He’d recovered more stolen art than anyone else at IYS.  He was that good, arrogant as Jim called him. So what?  He’d take arrogant and good at his job any day.

As he reached for his drink, his hand collided with one of the female persuasion.  Her fingers were delicate, thin and long.  The hand was smooth and flawless, nothing adorning it.  He had noticed out of the corner of his eye a red dress that floated throughout the room. Now he was encountering the owner of that dress.  Looking her way, he noticed how incredibly beautiful she was.

Exotic.  That was the first word that flew through his brain.  Dark hair, dark eyes, red, red lips, hair piled high with wisps of it escaping artfully around her face, framing it.  The front of her dress was somewhat demure. It was only in the back that he noticed the silky smooth skin of her back, entirely exposed, almost indecent how far it came down to her wonderfully shaped backside.  Her shapely legs were visible as she turned to look who was attempting to take the drink from her hands. 

He almost stumbled as he drew in her scent.  Jasmine, exotic just like she was.  He smiled a bit as he realized that she was claiming the same drink as he was.

“Oh, pardon me.”

He had no idea what nationality she was because she didn’t talk.  She smiled his way, taking the drink for herself.  He was good at waiting for something he wanted.  As she slipped her hand out of his with the drink, he felt a jolt of electricity travel from her hand to his.  Looking deep into her dark eyes, he realized that she felt the same thing.  His eyes widened in surprise.

“Um, sorry.”

“Yes,” was the only answer she gave.

As she glided past him, sipping her drink, he saw her turn her head to get a last glimpse of him.  He watched her as she swayed her hips.  Blowing out the breath he was holding, shaking his head as the bartender handed him a drink, probably brandy, he drained the drink in one go.

He turned his head when he heard Corbett coming his way.  The woman in red was lost in the crowd.  Arguing with his client, Nate hoped that he made his point about the security.  Corbett was not pleased, he could tell.  IYS couldn’t afford for him to lose any of the insured paintings.

As the music started, Nate noticed the red dress slip off into the distance.  The music was just too distracting, people starting to dance.  There was just something about that red dress and the woman wearing it.  He wished that he could place it.  If he thought hard enough, he’d solve the puzzle.

Who was she?  He could tell from her eyes that she was intelligent, unlike most of Corbett’s conquests.  Corbett usually attracted, for lack of a better word, bimbos.  Not much intelligence, but all the curves in the right places.  How any woman would think that Corbett was handsome?  Didn’t they have standards?

The one in the red dress didn’t look to be his latest conquest. He had no idea why a woman like her would even be there.  Maybe she was the wife of one of the other men who milled around.  There was no ring on her finger, but that didn’t mean anything. Sure, he wore his, never taking it off, but many didn’t wear theirs for one reason or another.  Maggie had taken hers off months before, with her hands swelling up to make it too tight to wear.  She thought it amusing and told him so.  It irked him.  Men flirted with her all the time, sometimes with Nate standing directly beside her.  She was a blonde, blue eyed California girl.  That’s what drew him to her in the first place.  She was nothing like the girls that surrounded him in the neighborhood.  She was a breath of fresh air, unlike the tough girls he encountered in Boston. Sure, there were ones that were like Maggie.  But those usually weren’t interested in him.  He was connected to elements that many of them avoided at all costs.  That’s why he moved to Los Angeles in the first place.  Being Jimmy Ford’s son sometimes attracted the wrong element.  His mother had been more than happy when he decided to leave.

Only she never got to see that, dying before he could show her where he lived.  His first life, the one where he was supposed to go on to be a priest, fell apart shortly thereafter.  Luckily he’d been smart enough to realize it.  College would work just as well.  That’s where he met Maggie.  She was cute and sweet and ever so accommodating.  That’s what he needed:  a woman who would overlook all his faults.  He’d been fooled though.  She was smarter than he was by a mile.

He couldn’t put the woman in red out of his mind.  She just seemed so familiar, like he’d seen her picture before.  Sterling had told him not six months before encountering a woman who had bested him, stolen a statue right out from under his nose.  Could this be her?  Impossible.  Nate didn’t remember the details.  He’d have to inquire once he returned to Los Angeles.

He still had an hour or more before the party ended.  Nothing else significant happened.  He had hoped he would see the woman in red again, if just to look at her.  It was almost like she wasn’t real. 

Nate set off to find Corbett after his guests started to leave, wanting to get a head start on the system.  He found the man walking down a corridor.  There were doors that led to several rooms left and right.  Corbett surely did not want to discuss what needed to be done.

“If you do not secure your paintings, Mr. Corbett, IYS will have to cancel your policy.”

“Mr. Ford, I understand your concern.  The house is secure.  No one can get in or out without a code.”

Nate needed to make known that IYS did not want to pay out on anything missing.  He hadn’t upgraded it in years.

“Each room needs sensors on each painting. Motions need to be placed in every corridor.  Don’t get me started on all the windows where the latches don’t even work.”

It would be his job to make it much more difficult for a thief.  And he was the man to fix this.

“Which costs an exorbitant amount of money, Mr. Ford.”

“Sell one of these things to pay for it.”

“As I discussed with Mr. Blackpoole on the phone, my security will take time to upgrade.  I am willing to give you the run of the place to make sure that happens.”

Tomorrow, he sighed.   It was late.  There was no way Nate could fix that tonight.

“Tomorrow, we will start the upgrade.  Until then, I suggest you double the guards.”

He hoped that Corbett would take his advice.  He counted guards.  Changing the schedule might mess any thief up.

“I will see if that’s possible, but I’m not certain that I can until tomorrow at least.  There’s only so much I can do with the personnel on site.”

“Ok, just tomorrow beef it up.”

Nate sighed in frustration.  Upgrading the system couldn’t come soon enough for him.  He’d rush it so he could go home, as soon as possible.

As he paced the now empty ballroom, he hadn’t seen the woman in red leave.  He had watched as most everyone had made their way to the door earlier.  Then it dawned on him.  The lack of conversation by her at the party, the way she scanned the room.  Fuck.  The woman in red, was the woman who had almost taken her drink, she must be a thief.  That’s why those dark eyes were so intriguing.  She had to be there casing the castle for something.  Why couldn’t have been Sterling who came? She’d beaten Sterling before.  He’d possibly recognize her.  Nate didn’t give up that easily.  Perhaps she was only testing the security.  He’d catch her though, if she was a thief.  He had that kind of reputation.

He’d wait, examine the security footage, see if he could find her.  As he looked and looked, he realized that the camera set up was inadequate at best.  Most of the house was not covered.  Probably because Corbett didn’t want any of his conquests being filmed.  Nate sighed in exhaustion.  By 3am, all he wanted was a nice, soft bed. 

As he closed his eyes for a minute, when he opened them to peer out the window, that’s when he noticed the figure creeping through the back yard, which was enormous.  There were paths everywhere.  The shrubs on the right shielded anything from prying eyes.  That’s where he’d look first.  If she wore black, she’d sink into the inky black night.  There was no moon, which could prevent anyone from seeing an intruder leave.  He quickly followed, hoping to catch up with the moving figure.

A back gate creaked just slightly, alerting Nate that his prey was on the move.  His plan to catch a thief was working without a hitch.  Only he had jinxed himself thinking that.  She knew she was being followed.  By the way she walked, he knew she was a woman, possibly the woman in red he had encountered hours before.

The figure must have ducked into an alley.  The reprieve let Nate catch his breath.  Nate quickly walked down the cobblestone street, looking here and there.  He lost her.  She had somehow slipped into one of the many dark alleys, which would make her untraceable.  He didn’t know these streets at all, putting him at a disadvantage.

It wasn’t until he was blocks from where the figure disappeared that he encountered her again. That was on purpose.  He noticed her, definitely noticed her.

“Hey, stop.”

“Excuse me?” British? Canadian?  Who knew?

She tried to hide her accent, playing it down until he’d be wondering where she was from.

“From the party. You didn’t happen to see someone dressed in black go by?”

Shaking her head no, she started to walk the opposite way as he was heading.  As she looked back, his eyes were again watching her with intensity.  She’d hooked him.  He’d only remember some exotic woman with a red dress, not a thief.  She was good.  She was the same person.  She’d probably give him lots of images for some naughty dreams if and when he was able to sleep.

“How’d you do it?”

The woman in red stumbled only a bit, but kept moving. 

“You really are a piece of work, you know that?”

Her heels clicked against the cobblestones.  They were a bit slick from the rain from before.  Those dangerous heels would make good weapons, with the spiked heel at the back.

He figured out the exact moment she managed to get away from him.  There must be a path that would take her out of his way, yes, because he’d never know how to use it.  Finally, she looked back to where he now stood.  He shoved his hands in his pockets, tie askew, hair damp and now curling on his head.  Oh how, in a different lifetime, he’d love to run his fingers through that long, silky hair, tug on it to get her to do exactly what he wanted, when he wanted.  His eyes hardened when he realized that she had played him, in more ways than one.  Maybe it was his mind, too tired to really care, body stressed from lack of sleep and lack of sex since Maggie didn’t want him to touch her, that had him reacting.  Then he realized that he had been bested.  That just pissed him off more than the other two things did.

“I will find you.”

She smiled his way.

“You have to catch me first.”

And with that, she disappeared.  Or what looked like she was disappearing into thin air.  He took off after her, but she was gone.  The alleys in the Old Town were windy and hard to navigate if you didn’t know them.  The woman with the dark eyes and red dress would not be found.

He finally found her a few days later.  He had assumed she’d be gone too quickly.  It was only as she made her way through the streets, that he noticed her. He’d picked her up, tailing her slowly.  In her nondescript flowery skirt and sleeveless blouse, she went on her way like she hadn’t a care in the world. He was in another dark suit, this time with a blue tie he had put on haphazardly as he left his hotel room.  Oh how she intrigued him.

The castle she made her way to was big with many corridors.  He’d surely lose her in there.  And she did quickly, making it to her hotel room.  It was only chance that he had seen her as he had made his way back into his hotel, taking a shortcut because he had to catch his flight home.  She was staying directly across from him.  How had he not noticed?  He certainly did not until a few minutes before.  As quietly as he could, he shoved a piece of paper under the door. Next time he wrote.  That would piss her off.

Oh she was good.  And lucky.  Very, very lucky.  She’d avoid him like the plague now.  He’d managed to rattle her ever so slightly.  It made him realize how much he loved this job of his.  Gone were thoughts of Maggie and the baby.  It was only her in her red dress, running from him, waiting to be caught.  He’d chase her, she’d run.  And he’d only catch her when she wanted to be caught.  She’d make sure of that.

 

 


End file.
